Sit! Stay! Speak! (15 page)

“Well, I can tell you one thing about this house,” Jasper said. “It could use a little work.”

“Couldn't we all?” Addie muttered. “Couldn't we all?”

“T
HAT WAS WONDERFUL
.” A
DDIE LEANED BACK IN HER CHAIR
. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“It's something I've always been able to do,” Jasper said. “Much to my father's dismay, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my mother as a child. Fried chicken was one of the first things she taught me. It's a staple in any proper southern household.”

“You're an only child?”

“Yes. My parents were both in their thirties before they had me. They never thought they'd have any children, I guess.”

“So you were spoiled rotten.”

“Hardly.” Jasper stood up and took Addie's plate. “Rotten, yes. Spoiled, no.”

“Here, let me do that.” Addie jumped up and took the plates out of Jasper's hands. “Sit down.” She walked over to the sink, scraping the remainder of Jasper's plate into Felix's bowl. “So, you and your dad . . . you don't get along very well?”

“That's an understatement,” Jasper muttered. “But we don't really speak much, so I guess an argument could be made that we get along just fine as long as nobody talks.”

“I always wondered what it would be like to have a father growing up. My mom was great, but she worked all the time trying to support us.”

“Us?”

“Herself and me. She didn't meet my stepfather, Jerry, until I was in college. They've just been married a few months.”

“It must be difficult being away from your mom. I mean, since it was just the two of you for so long.”

Addie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to decide how to respond. “It is. But at the same time, I think it's been good for my mother. After what happened . . . after—after I lost Jonah, I think she was afraid to be happy because she thought it would upset me. With me all the way down here, she's finally able to have a life without worrying that she's throwing it in my face.”

“Is that why you left?”

“Maybe.”

Jasper stood up. “I guess I should probably get on home. It looks like it's letting up, and I don't think you need to worry too much about losing power.”

“Okay.” Addie dried her hands with a dish towel. “Thanks for the ride, and thanks for dinner.”

“Anytime,” Jasper said, opening the door. “You want me to go ahead and take you back to your car now?”

Before Addie could respond, a gust of wind shot through the kitchen, and Addie shuddered. “Oh, wait, you forgot your hat.” She ran into the living room.

“Is that coatrack some of that old barn wood?” Jasper asked.

Addie pulled his hat off one of the old doorknobs. “Yes, so is the wine rack with the horseshoes in the kitchen.”

“That's amazing,” Jasper marveled. “You made these?”

“I did.” Addie nodded. “And I don't know if you noticed, but the kitchen table and chairs are the same ones you thought were trash the first time you were here.”

“I hadn't noticed,” Jasper admitted. “But I'm noticing now.” He walked back into the kitchen, placing his hands on the back of one of the chairs. “I've never met anyone who could make something most people would throw away so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Addie was beaming. It had been a long time since anyone had praised her for her work. It had been a long time since she'd created anything for anyone to praise. “It's my catharsis, you know?”

“It's raw talent, that's what it is.” Jasper reached for his hat, accidentally catching part of her shirt, his hand brushing against her naked stomach. Goose bumps pricked up on her skin. Instead of pulling away from her, he let his hand wander around her stomach to the small of her back.

It was too much.

Jasper lifted her up onto the table, pushing her legs apart with his torso. His hands slid up her shirt, pulling her closer to him until she couldn't breathe without feeling his chest against hers. “Tell me you want me,” he growled. “Tell me you want me to stay.”

Addie couldn't think. Her entire body was on fire. Finally, she found the word she'd been searching for.

“Stay.”

As Addie slid off the table, Jasper hooked his thumbs down
into the waistband of her pants and pulled them down to find she wasn't wearing any underwear. “Christ,” he mumbled into her ear. “I can't control myself around you.” He placed one hand on her bare hip, and his other hand grazed her buttocks and found its way to the inside of her thigh. “I can't think,” he rasped.

Addie unhooked his belt as he fumbled with his shirt. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the length of his excitement.

Jasper moaned at her touch and launched himself forward, until she was lying flat on the table. Lifting up her camisole, he placed his mouth around one of her nipples. He bit down, and she writhed beneath him.

“Please,” she begged him. “Please. I can't stand it.”

He placed his mouth over hers and then without any warning, thrust himself into her. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, raising her hips to meet his rhythm. His eyes were open, watching her as he moved inside her body. She writhed beneath him, but he whispered to her, “Be patient, just be patient.”

Addie could hear her own heartbeat. She could hear Jasper's heartbeat. His hands were gripping the table so tightly that she feared he would get splinters as he found his release. And then for a moment, everything was quiet.

T
HE RAIN CONTINUED
as a slow drizzle. Addie could hear it coming down outside, and she shifted in bed, prompting Jasper awake beside her. She still couldn't believe he was here with her. Felix had been slighted to find him in his place, but had warmed quickly when Jasper invited him up, allowing the dog to curl up at his feet.

“Are you still awake?” Jasper asked. “How long have I been out?”

Addie grinned at him in the darkness as his fingers traced along her spine. “Not long. I'm sorry I woke you.”

“No, don't be sorry. I'm glad I'm awake. I love to listen to the rain.”

“You do?”

“It's better on a tin roof,” he replied. “But I guess this will do.”

“Rain makes me nervous,” Addie said. She scooted closer to Jasper.

“How come?”

“I don't know,” Addie admitted. “Just seems like bad things always happen when it rains.”

“The tree limb through the window was a freak accident.” Jasper stroked her hair.

“It's not just that.”

“What do you mean?”

Addie was regretting this line of conversation. She didn't want to talk about the rain or the bad things that happened in it. She wanted to lie here next to Jasper Floyd, in all his naked glory, and pretend like they were the only two people in the world. Damn rain.

“Addie?” Jasper pried himself away from her. “Why don't you like the rain? Does it have anything to do with”—he paused—“Jonah?”

Addie cringed. She didn't like hearing Jonah's name coming out of Jasper's mouth. It felt wrong. “It's nothing,” she said. “Forget about it.”

“I don't want to forget about it.”

She couldn't see him in the dark, but she knew he was staring at her. She knew she was going to have to tell him. She took a
deep breath and said, “Jonah died in the rain. I mean, he died in a car accident, but it was raining.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“We had a fight,” she went on. “I was running late, and we fought. I told him to go without me and he did.”

“Where was he going?”

“We were supposed to be getting married in two months. It was our last meeting with the caterer. The food was so important; I guess that's maybe a bit of my aunt Tilda in me, to be so obsessed with food.” Addie squeezed her eyes shut. “Jonah didn't understand, but he was so kind about it, even when I picked a caterer an hour away. God, I was so stupid.”

When Jasper didn't say anything, she continued, “The roads were slick. It was cold,” Addie replied. She fought the tears threatening to flood the space between them. “He was angry. He was driving twenty above the speed limit. He died on impact, and it was my fault.”

“Adelaide, it wasn't your fault.”

“It was.” She couldn't hold back the tears any longer. “It was my fault, and it was for nothing. He died for no reason at all, and I'll never forgive myself.”

“Don't say that,” Jasper whispered, pulling her close to him. “There's nothing you could have done. Nothing you could have said. Blaming yourself won't bring him back.”

Addie didn't say anything. She couldn't say what she wanted to say. She couldn't say out loud that if Jonah hadn't died she wouldn't be here with Jasper, and that the only place she wanted to be was here beside him. The guilt of it all kept her mouth stitched shut. The guilt of it all kept the space between them real and fluid, an ocean of feelings she couldn't explain.

Addie awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the windows of her bedroom. She opened her eyes and saw that Jasper was still asleep next to her. She thought about reaching out and touching him, but was afraid that she would wake him and prompt an awkward morning-after-sex conversation that she wasn't sure she was ready to have.

She instead rolled over and glanced at her alarm clock. It was 7:40
A
.
M
.

“Oh, shit!” Addie shrieked, shooting up in the bed like a rocket. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Beside her Jasper stirred. “What?”

“Shit!” Addie said again, this time jumping out of bed. “I forgot to set my alarm!”

“What?”

“I have to work today. It's my first day at the clinic. I can't believe I'm going to be late on my first day!”

“I'm sorry; I'm not really awake yet.” Jasper rubbed his eyes. “You have to what?”

Addie rummaged through her dresser for a pair of panties. She found a pair and plopped herself back down on the bed, jamming her legs into them.

“Calm down. You just live five minutes away from there.” He glanced down at her underwear and said, “I like those, by the way.”

Addie stood up and hurried over to her closet. “But my car is in a parking lot clear on the other side of town, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Do you think you could just take me to the clinic? I can have Wanda take me to get my car later.”

Jasper turned away from her, pulling on his pants. He walked
past Addie and to the foot of the bed where his shirt lay. He didn't respond.

“Well?”

“What?”

“Can you take me to the clinic?”

“Do you think you could give Wanda a call? You aren't the only one running late.”

“Jasper, I've got fifteen minutes to get there, and I haven't even brushed my teeth yet. Why can't you just take me to work?”

“I just have so much to do at the farm. I was gone all night and didn't tell anyone.”

Addie narrowed her eyes at him. He wasn't looking at her. And he was standing in the doorway like he was ready to bolt. Why didn't he want to take her to the clinic?

“It's not like I'm asking for a kidney,” Addie said. “What's your problem?”

“I know, I know.” Jasper shoved his hands down into his pockets. “It's just Doc is good friends with my parents. If he sees me dropping you off, he might get the wrong idea. And I really need to be getting back.”

“The wrong idea?” Addie could feel the color rising in her cheeks. She was furious. “Oh, you mean he might think that we spent the night together?”

“That's not what I meant.”

“I know exactly what you meant,” Addie hissed. “Just leave. I'll call Wanda to come and get me.”

“Addie, you're overreacting.” Jasper stepped toward her.

“You didn't seem to mind yesterday, pushing my shopping cart all over the place like it was your goddamn civic duty.”
Addie recoiled from his grasp. “But I guess everything's different now, huh?”

“Please. Please don't do this.”

“I'm sure you'd have no problem giving Harper a ride.” Addie glared at him from across the room. “I should have known better than to believe there was nothing going on between the two of you.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Addie.” Jasper reached out for her. “I wasn't lying to you. This has nothing to do with Harper.”

“I can't believe I told you everything,” Addie said, more to herself than to Jasper. “Get out of my house.”

“I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of nothing.”

“That's what this is. Nothing.”

“Addie, stop it.”

“Get out.”

Addie followed behind him to the front door. She watched as the Bronco sped away from the curb. She tore her eyes away from the empty street and found that Augustus Smoot was watching her from his porch. He stood shirtless, peeping through the crack in the door like a child. One hand was pressed into the screen. The flimsy aluminum had begun to bow beneath the weight until his hand burst through. Augustus pulled his hand out of the screen and turned to walk back inside his house. And with that, Addie's rage melted into a puddle at her feet, leaving behind nothing but an all-too-familiar numbness.

T
HE SUMMER STORMS DID NOTHING FOR THE
D
ELTA HEAT
except make everything sticky. There was a film over skin, cars, door handles. People seemed to be leaving pieces of themselves behind with every touch.

Those sticky days melted into one another, and Addie found herself dividing her time between her job at the clinic and fixing up the house. She liked the routine of seeing people all day at the clinic and coming home to Felix on the days that she didn't take him with her. In Chicago, there had always been someone at the apartment she shared with Jonah. There were always clients calling for updates about the pieces they'd left to be refinished or clients calling about pieces they wanted to buy. People talk, there always seemed to be people talking. She didn't mind Felix needing her. His language was one she understood even better than her own. For the first time in her life, Addie was content to keep
to herself. Besides, the shed out back kept her busy enough for three people.

One evening she ventured out to the backyard, pockets full of dryer sheets, to take a look in the shed. There was a dresser in the back that she'd been eyeing, but it was so heavy that she wasn't confident that she could carry it into the house without help. The dresser was old, even by Addie's standards. It was, as Jonah would have described it, provincial. French, probably, she mused, because of the cabriole legs and scalloped carvings on the drawers.
See, Jonah, I remember things,
Addie thought.
I listened to you.
Years of paint and dust mingled together to make the dresser the color of chalk. She took her finger and grazed the top. She laid her palm flat against it. Even in the twilight, Addie could tell that it would be a lot of work to restore this one. It wouldn't be fun like her repurposed treasures; she'd need to go back to the hardware store for more supplies, and she'd need to bribe Wanda to come help her haul it inside the house.
But maybe,
she thought,
maybe it's still alive under there. Maybe I can find its heartbeat.

At the clinic, Addie had managed to organize all the clinic's clients and vet records into two electronic files that were easy to locate and use. And for that, Addie had earned the everlasting gratitude of Dr. Dixon. She even found herself at the clinic on her days off, teaching the rest of the staff how to use the system she'd put into place.

Life was altogether slow.

“What do you reckon it'd take for the editor of the
Eunice Daily
to publish an article that isn't about the heat?” Wanda asked. She crinkled the newspaper between her fists. “Does he think we don't
know
that it's hot outside? Like we need someone to be telling us?”

“Doc is going to get you if you rumple that newspaper.”

“He can afford to buy another one.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “Besides, this isn't 1980. What kind of business doesn't have Internet? This place is a dead zone!”

“People like you are the reason newspapers are going out of business.” Addie yawned and stretched back in her chair, accidentally kicking Felix. “Why don't you at least read something interesting like the arrest record or the personal ads?”

“The personals depress me,” Wanda replied. “And so does the arrest record. I know too many of the people.”

“There's got to be something more interesting than another editorial about the damn heat.”

“Let's look at the for sale section. I need a new refrigerator.” Wanda skimmed through the page. “Slim pickin's today. Somebody sellin' a tractor motor, somebody sellin' some hogs, somebody wantin' to trade puppies for guns, somebody lookin' to buy a mattress . . .”

“Wait, go back,” Addie said.

“To which one?”

“The one about guns and puppies.”

“It says, ‘For sale or trade: American pit bull terrier pups. Twelve weeks. No papers. Several good prospects, all show gameness. Black and white. Good markings. Will come with one month of supplements. Trade for guns or a few nice springpoles. Will sell for $300 cash.'”

“What's a springpole?” Addie asked. She'd heard the other words before. They'd been in the papers inside Redd Jones's nightstand. She'd meant to look them up, but she'd gotten so distracted by Jasper. She'd forgotten about everything but him for a while.

“Beats me.”

“Doesn't that seem a little crude?” Addie asked. “To trade dogs for guns?”

“You can trade anything for anything.”

“Is there a number to call?”

Wanda looked up at Addie from behind the newspaper. “Are you going to call it?”

“It sounds like they look like Felix.”

“Who looks like Felix?” Dr. Dixon asked, walking into the reception area. He smiled over at them. “Wanda, don't wrinkle my newspaper. You do it every darn day.”

“There's an ad in the newspaper. Somebody's got a bunch of pit bull puppies,” Wanda replied.

“They want to trade them for guns,” Addie said. She wrinkled her nose. “Or a . . . what's it called?”

“A springpole,” Wanda finished.

“Yeah, a springpole. What is that?”

“It's a pole that has a spring hanging down that's tied to a rope. It allows the dogs to jump for long periods of time,” Dr. Dixon said.

“Why would you want to do that?” Addie asked.

“It strengthens the jaw muscles and back legs. Let me see that ad.”

Wanda handed the newspaper over to Dr. Dixon. By the time he finished reading, his facial muscles were tense. He wasn't smiling. “I don't think you're going to want to buy one of these puppies.”

“Why not?”

“Just promise me you won't call any numbers for now.” He folded the newspaper under his arm.

“Hey,” Wanda said. “I wasn't done reading that.”

“You're done for today,” Dr. Dixon replied. “Now, both of you—promise me.”

“Fine, fine.” Wanda threw up her hands in defeat. “I promise.”

“Addie?”

Addie stared down at her feet. At Felix. She didn't want to promise anything. She had a hunch who those puppies belonged to, and she had a hunch Dr. Dixon knew it, too. There was a reason nobody wanted her on that side of town, and that reason was Redd Jones. “I promise not to call any numbers.”

“Now you two girls get back to work.”

“What in tarnation do you think that was all about?” Wanda asked as soon as Dr. Dixon was out of earshot. “Sometimes I wonder who that man thinks he is ordering me around like that.”

“He's our boss right now,” Addie replied. “But he's not our boss when we leave this clinic.”

“We both promised him we wouldn't pry,” Wanda said.

“No, I promised him I wouldn't be calling any numbers,” Addie reminded her friend. “I didn't say I promised not to pry.”

It seemed to Addie that the best way to make sure that she never ran into Jasper was to never go out in public. However, as the days counted down to the end of the summer, she began to wonder if he'd picked up and moved back to Memphis. No trip to the store or walks with Felix or even a lunch with Wanda down at Jennie's Joint produced the slightest hint of Jasper Floyd. Addie's anger was beginning to fade into a kind of curiosity that she couldn't shake.

“Just twenty-two more days until fall,” her mother chirped into the phone. “Have you started pulling out your sweaters yet?”

“Mom, it's hardly September,” Addie said, twirling a strand of
blond hair through her fingers. “We're just lucky nobody has died of heatstroke this week.”

“We?” her mother asked. “Sounds like you're feeling pretty familiar down there. Didn't you say you'd be home by the end of August?”

“The house isn't ready yet.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Addie's mother sighed into the receiver. “I just thought cooler weather put you in a better mood.”

“I'm in a fine mood.”

“Obviously,” her mother replied sarcastically. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Does it have anything to do with that farmer you told me about?”

“It didn't work out, Mom.”

“Oh, honey. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I just don't want to talk about it.”

“Adelaide, why don't you come home for a few weeks? We'd love to see you. Jerry and I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Addie said. “But I need to stay here, at least for a little while.”

Addie sat down on the couch and absently rubbed Felix's head, thinking about her mother's excitement that Addie might have met someone, even if that meant staying in the Delta longer than either of them had anticipated. It reminded her of the last summer she spent with her aunt. It was the longest she'd ever been away from Chicago—a whole month. She had been twelve that visit and hadn't been particularly interested in leaving the buzz of the
city for the pastures of Eunice. That visit her aunt had seemed older—less excited about things and more willing to let Addie be on her own during the heat of the day.

One morning Aunt Tilda woke Addie early, before it was even light outside. “Adelaide, my love,” her aunt had cooed. “Get up, angel. I need your help.”

Addie sat up in bed. “What? Why are you waking me up so early?”

“You know Ms. Rubina down the street, don't you?” Aunt Tilda said, pulling back the covers of Addie's bed. “Well, her brother is in town for a week. And Ms. Rubina is very old—much older than me.” Her aunt paused to chuckle at her own remark. “I'm going to cook enough dinners for them to have for the whole time her brother is here. And I need your help.”

“But I don't know how to cook,” Addie protested.

“You won't have to do anything but be my assistant for the day,” Aunt Tilda promised her. “Now get up. There is no time to dawdle.”

Addie spent the rest of the day doing her aunt's bidding as her aunt slaved away over the kitchen stove. Addie remembered the entire kitchen table full of casseroles and, of course, her aunt Tilda's famous fried pies. By the time they finished, the last minutes of daylight were fading from the sky as Addie and her aunt loaded up Addie's red Radio Flyer wagon with a week's worth of food.

Addie remembered the way her aunt had smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her dress before she rang the doorbell at Ms. Rubina's house. “You just smile and be sweet,” her aunt whispered to her. “We won't be here long.”

A man answered the door instead of Ms. Rubina. He was
well-dressed and older than her aunt. When he spoke, his voice was thick as molasses and drowning in a southern accent. “Why, Tilda Andrews!” he exclaimed. When he said her name, it came out more like
Tilduh.
“I haven't seen you in
forevuh.
”

“Hello, Zeke.” There was a chill in her aunt's voice. “Rubina told me you were visiting. She's too old for you to be imposing on her like this.”

“And I'm too old for you to be scolding,” Zeke replied. His voice was firm, but he was smiling. “Now who do we have
he-uh
?”

“This is my great-niece, Adelaide,” Aunt Tilda said. “She's visiting from up North.”

“Your people in Chicago?” he asked Addie.

“Yes.”

“I have known your aunt since she wasn't much older than you. You sure do carry after her.”

“How come I've never met you before?” Addie asked.

Before Zeke could answer, Addie's aunt stepped in front of her and said, “Out front there's a wagon loaded with food for the week. No reason for your sister to have to be on her feet cookin' for you.”

“I thought maybe I'd call on you one day this week.”

“I don't reckon that will be necessary. Don't forget about the food. I'll come back for my wagon.”

Aunt Tilda held Addie's hand more tightly on the way home. When they walked through the front door, her aunt said she was tired and went to her room. She didn't come out even at suppertime, even after Addie knocked. She could have sworn she heard her aunt crying in her bedroom that night, but Addie had been too young then to understand. She had been too young to
know that her aunt Tilda's tears would be the start of something building up inside of her own soul that night, a pride passed down from generation to generation among Andrews women. And Addie would be left the lone survivor, the gatekeeper to this house, this pride, this ache, the night that her aunt was finally set free in death.